


That's not yours

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Sons of Ragnar [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Flirting, Drunken groping, F/M, Flirting, Partying with the Ragnarssons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 19:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11111217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: I got a request  for an imagine in which the reader is a new arrival in Kattegatt and the Ragnarssons take an interest in her. One night she asks one of the brothers if she can borrow a shirt to sleep in. The next day, the other brothers notice this and become jealous.This has been previously posted on my tumblr account.





	That's not yours

”(y/n)!” You turn your head to see who is calling for you. Hvitserk comes sauntering towards you, a wide smile decorating his face.

”Hello, Hvitserk. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

”I certainly am now that I’m talking to you.” He replies. You let out an embarrassing giggle at the compliment.

”My brothers and I are having a small gathering tonight, to celebrate that our call to earls and kings has turned out to be so successful. You should come.” You hesitate for a second; in the few days that you’ve been in Kattegatt almost all of the Ragnarssons have shown an interest in you. Going to this celebration will likely just increase the tension between the brothers and according to rumours they already have a very strained relationship. On the other hand, _he_ will be there. You realize that you’ve been quiet for quite some time and that Hvitserk is staring at you.

“I’ll come.” You answer, maybe a bit too eagerly.

“Good.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk away again. After a few steps he turns to face you and grins like a wolf.

“Prepare to get shit faced.” He takes off running before you can answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re not sure when the music started, or even who is playing, but it sounds good and you try to hum along to the tune in spite of the distracting sensation of exploring hands at your legs and the small of your back.

“Back off, she came here at my invitation.” Hvitserk grumbles and swats away Sigurd’s hand.

“You haven’t even kissed her.” Sigurd retorts while making a new attempt at letting his hand slide over your leg and through the slowly thickening fog around your mind you hear Hvitserk mutter something about _not yet_. Ivar makes a poor attempt at smiling innocently at you from across the table.

“More ale, (y/n)?” He asks, already refilling your cup.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where did everyone go?” The words come out slurred as you look around the cabin, realizing that it’s just you and the Ragnarssons left.

“They’ve probably stumbled off to bed.” Hvitserk says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Weaklings who can’t hold their drink.” Ivar chimes in while running a finger down your exposed neck. He’s sitting next to you now; he hurried to take Sigurd’s seat while the blonde brother went outside to relieve himself. His thumb brushes over the side of your neck and you try not to shiver at the very pleasant sensation. He is a bit scary, sure, but he’s also very handsome and in this drunken state his eyes have softened a bit and his smile seems more genuine. You are warming up more and more to the thought of leaning into his touch when the frontdoor opens as both Ubbe and Sigurd come back inside; their entrance cuts through the fog and you try to pull yourself together.

“Maybe I should go home too.” You say hurriedly, trying to ignore Hvitserk’s hand as it roams over your thigh. Of course, these words only makes the brothers more eager to finish this competition that they have going.

“It’s a long way to walk back to your camp. Stay here tonight and let me take care of you.” Sigurd purrs while resting a hand on your shoulder.

“And by _take care of_ , he means _fall asleep on top of_. See how drunk he is!” Ivar exclaims while gesturing wildly with his cup, spilling some of the ale on your dress.

“Spilling your drink on her is the only way you’ll ever be able to make her wet.” Sigurd retorts while clamping down even harder on your shoulder. The softness in Ivar’s eyes shifts into something that you’re not sure how to interpret. Ubbe intervenes before the arguing can escalate any further.

“No, brothers, she’s not going to bed with any of you. She’s too drunk for that.” He gestures to a corner.

“I’ll go get some blankets for you and you can sleep the drink off here.” Hvitserk looks as if he’s about to protest but Ubbe need only look at his younger brother for him to stay quiet. Ubbe pries Sigurd’s hand from your shoulder and you sink deep into the chair as his fingers brush against your collarbone.

“Go to sleep now, we’ve all had too much to drink.” Ubbe says in a voice that, although slightly slurred, is commanding. The younger men sulk but do as they’re told and skulk off to bed.  You hold on to the table as you stand up, waiting for your vision to steady itself. Ubbe finishes preparing the improvised bed and guides you to it. You take your time walking there so that his hands will be on your arms longer.

“Good night.” He is about to leave when you grab his arm and make him turn back to you. _What was I about to ask?_

“I was just…I was wondering…” He raises his eyebrows and waits for you to finish the drunken ramble.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in? This” You gesture at the rather dishevelled and stained dress “isn’t very comfortable to sleep in.” Ubbe looks you over and it seems that agrees with you about the dress looking uncomfortable, because he nods and begins to dig through a chest that’s on the floor. He finds a shirt and hands it to you. You murmur _thank you_ and turn around, waiting to hear the floor boards creak. They do. Confident that Ubbe has now left, you begin to remove the dress. You have just started sliding it off your shoulders when your hear him let out a pleased hum. You squeal in surprise; apparently he had only taken a few steps back.

“Look away.” You beg while holding on to the fabric.

“Are you sure about that?” He asks in a very serious voice. _What?_ You try to form some sort of coherent sentence but you only manage to sputter in shock at his bold words. _Does he know?_ Then he breaks into a smile and he chuckles at your very obvious embarrassment.

“Don’t worry. We can talk more about it when you’re sober.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Someone is trying to crack your skull open, that’s the only possible explanation why it hurts so much. You open your eyes, ready to shoo away whoever is carrying out this assault. Sunlight hits you right in the face and you scream, turning against the wall to shield yourself from the infernal light.

“Someone overdid it last night.” An amused voice says somewhere above you; Hvitserk.

“You told me to prepare to get shit faced. I just did as I was told.” You mutter while pulling one of the blankets up to cover your face, only to have Hvitserk pull it back down while Sigurd cheers him on.

“Breakfast.” He announces while poking at your face repeatedly.

“Why aren’t you two feeling like shit?” You whine, not at all happy about their enthusiasm.

“Because unlike you and our baby brother, we don’t have the constitution of a 10-year old girl.” Sigurd smirks from behind Hvitserk. He points over at the table where they had been competing for your attention last night and you see Ivar resting his head on it. The darkhaired prince only groans; for once he doesn’t have a clever response ready.

“Come on.” Hvitserk laughs when he sees the sympathetic look on your face and he snatches the blanket right out of your hands. Then he freezes and you look down on yourself, trying to figure out what is wrong for him to stare like that.

“That’s not yours.” He points at the shirt and his gaze glides over your exposed legs. _Oh right_.

“Where is your dress?” Sigurd asks suspiciously. You’re not in the mood to answer their questions and you can feel heat rising in your face. As you lift your head you see that even Ivar has caught on and tilted his head to hear better. Ubbe comes sneaking from his bed; he has finally woken up.

He reaches the table and slams a cup of water down in front of Ivar, making the youngest brother jump in surprise. Hvitserk and Sigurd almost twist their necks in their hurry to look at Ubbe.

“It’s mine.” He informs them. He grins as he walks right past them to sit down next to you and offer you some water. Ivar just groans loudly again while Hvitserk and Sigurd stare at you in silent disbelief as you accept the cup. Finally, Hvitserk speaks up.

“Not fair.” Sigurd walks over to the table and slumps down in one of the chairs.

“What is it that’s not fair?” Ubbe asks smugly while stroking your hair. You lean into his touch and close your eyes. Sigurd’s voice, full of envy, reaches your ears.

“You didn’t even play and yet you won.”


End file.
